


Vanishing Point

by Claranon



Series: The Princess and the Knight [5]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Brief appearance of an OC but don't worry I don't like them either, Don't get me wrong of course Hendrik suffers too, F/M, I would never not do that to him, Jade Suffers 2019, Officially a romance novel now, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension All Over the Goddamned Place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: Jade struggles with the weight of responsibility, and must face the consequences of her—and Hendrik's—actions.





	Vanishing Point

**Author's Note:**

> This one wouldn't have been possible without the amazing [Flutiebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear), y'all. A moment of silence for the many cups of coffee she had to consume after staying up to encourage and/or console me throughout the writing process.
> 
> (Also a shoutout to my husband for naming a horse. Thanks, hon.)

_Jade narrowed her eyes at the maze of string before her, suspended on delicate fingers._

_“Go on,” a gentle voiced urged. “You remember how to do this.”_

_The small princess screwed up her face in concentration, her tongue sticking out comically. She reached out and grabbed the bright thread with chubby fingers and pinched it together, twisting tentatively. For a moment the pattern seemed on the verge of collapse, but then the long fingers holding it readjusted slightly and the structure steadied._

_“Very good, ma chérie,” the woman before her said with quiet pride, and Jade basked in the warmth of it. The clothes, the jewels, the elaborate hairstyles—these images would fade, in the coming years. But she would never forget the way those kind eyes had looked at her, always filled with love._

_“What next, Mama?” the girl asked excitedly, unable to keep still as she bounced up and down on her knees._

_“Well, what would you like to do, mon chou?” her mother asked. She shifted positions on the carpeted floor of the playroom and her satin skirt rustled in that luxurious way that always sent a shiver down Jade’s spine._

_“Um…” The princess thought hard. “The drum. No—the fish!”_

_“Bon,” Queen Belle smiled. “Pinch the middle and pull, just like I showed you last time.”_

_Jade worked more confidently this time, determined to earn her mother’s praise. She pressed, pulled, twisted, then let go, holding her breath as she waited to see if the string would fall in on itself and spoil the whole game._

_It held._

_“I did it, Mama!” she gasped, overcome with a child’s delight. “Fish in a Dish!”_

_“You did,” her mother congratulated her. “But—oh no, I think it wants to swim away!” The string undulated as she wiggled her fingers and Jade giggled helplessly._

_“We have time for one more before your lessons, ma chérie,” the queen told her daughter, glancing at the sun’s position on the wall. “Shall we set our little fish loose?”_

 

* * *

 

Queen Belle’s gravestone and its surrounding garden had been kept in excellent condition throughout the sixteen-year absence of the royal family. Though Mordegon had rarely ever visited the site—obviously deciding some pretenses weren’t worth the bother—one of the groundskeepers, a doddering old man who had shared the queen’s deep love of flowers, had faithfully tended to her final resting place in his stead.

Jade wondered if there were some promotion or stipend that could be given to the man as she crouched down to place a small bouquet of lilies on her mother’s grave. She was alone this time; her father tried to accompany her as often as he could, but otherwise urged her to go by herself when he was occupied with matters of state.

The early autumn sun shone down brightly on the little clearing. Most people in the castle were tired of the extended summer by now, but the princess welcomed it after the briskness of Sniflheim. Butterflies dotted in and out among the garden and birdsong filled the air.

Jade sat back on her heels and loosely rested her arms on her legs as she stared at the gravestone. The expertly etched lettering stood out against the beautiful white marble, proclaiming its love for the woman interred there.

The princess sighed.

“Mother,” she said quietly, feeling strangely young and old at the same time. “I wish...”

She struggled for a moment, unsure how to finish the thought. The wind whispered a gentle encouragement as it stirred the golden flowers around her, but still the words wouldn’t come.

After a time, Jade gave up and rose, absently dusting off her skirt. She usually lingered during her visits, trying to conjure up fragments of a young girl’s half-formed memories. But today was a restless one, and she wouldn’t find any answers here.

The princess walked back to the castle, deliberately shifting her mind over to other matters. First and foremost was following up on her father’s decision about the Kingsbarrow expedition. Jade had decided this time to _ask_ if she could accompany the troops in returning the Red Orb to its rightful place, rather than sneaking along as usual. She’d come back from Sniflheim in one piece, after all, and was hopeful that her father would see reason after thinking it through.

( _Or_ it was equally possible he’d just double her guard and forbid her from going to the marketplace without an entire battalion as an escort, Jade thought humourlessly. At that point she would have to start brushing up on her disguises—she was sure she still had her old travelling dancer’s costume lying around someplace.)

She made a detour to the kitchens, swiping a croissant that she was sure at least three cooks and a scullion saw her take but turned indulgent blind eyes to. It was chocolate-filled, she discovered with satisfaction, and she munched on the pastry as she made her way upstairs.

The morning meeting had apparently just ended when she arrived at the council chambers, surreptitiously wiping her hands on the underside of her skirt. Normally she’d have attended, in her usual place at her father’s left, but the king excused her on those days she visited her mother’s grave.

Jade nodded at the various lords and ladies as they milled about the hallway and was about to head in to the room when a telltale clinking caught her attention. Her head whipped around.

There he was—halfway down the hall already and on his way to the parade ground, most likely. She didn’t stop to think before she changed direction and jogged after him, heedless of the curious looks from passersby.

“Hendrik!” she called, more loudly than intended; she steadfastly ignored _those_ looks, too. The armour-clad man ahead of her paused, then turned.

“Princess Jade,” he said, bowing noticeably lower than propriety demanded. She reached him just as he had straightened again and raised his gaze to meet hers, and she completely and utterly failed to convince herself that the sudden racing of her heart was brought on by the exertion—nothing more.

Her immediate follow-up thought as her eager eyes searched his face, however, was that he looked _tired_. She hadn’t seen much of him in the past week, and they’d spoken even less. He had many duties to catch up on after their trip, of course, but with his furrowed brow and the shadows under his eyes, it was almost as if he hadn’t had a decent night’s rest since...

Well, _since_.

“How was the meeting?” the princess asked, more from a desire to strike up conversation than out of any real interest.

“Productive,” was his unhelpful reply. “The scribe should have the minutes recorded by noon, if you wish to look over them.”

Jade decidedly did _not_ , but that was neither here nor there—especially as she noticed that the one perpetually loose lock of his hair had fallen further in front of his face after the bow. Her hand twitched and she barely resisted the urge to carefully brush it back into place, now armed with the knowledge of exactly how it felt to have his hair slipping through her fingers, soft and smooth and altogether—

“Is there anything else you require, Your Highness?” Hendrik asked, inadvertently redirecting the very _distracting_ trajectory of her thoughts.

“Oh. No,” she replied automatically, her brain attempting to get up to speed again. “I mean—yes. Is my father still around?“

Hendrik shook his head. “His Majesty left early to prepare for the labour negotiations this afternoon.”

“Right. I should probably talk to him about that.” Jade hesitated, then added: “Did he mention anything about the Kingsbarrow?”

“The king took me aside earlier and gave his approval for your inclusion on the journey,” the knight confirmed. “We leave mid-morning tomorrow, if that suits Your Highness.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, a surge of triumph dampening the unease she felt at Hendrik’s unreadable expression. “I know you must have had some influence in that, Hendrik—thank you.”

Jade didn’t stop her hand from reaching out that time, resting lightly on his steel-encased forearm in gratitude. A muscle rippled along Hendrik’s jaw and he cleared his throat, pulling ever so subtly away from her.

She let her hand drop, stomach sinking right along with it.

“You underestimate your own powers of persuasion, Princess,” he said resolutely, looking off to the side. “I have not earned your thanks.”

For a moment, she was utterly taken aback at this response. The man before her—stern, stoic, detached; every inch the proper knight—suddenly felt almost a stranger to her. Where was the fierce competitiveness of their training sessions? The dry, startling flashes of humour when they discussed politics? The quiet sense of companionship from their travels?

_The aching vulnerability when he’d wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him?_

“I see,” she replied, at a loss for anything better to say.

Hendrik nodded, oblivious to her inner confusion. “The steward will give you details on the required supplies. The troops and I shall be waiting for you in the courtyard tomorrow.”

The knight made another bow and started to turn away.

“Hendrik?” she said quickly.

Jade _knew_ she wasn’t imagining his hesitation when he paused mid-turn before looking back at her. “Yes, Princess?”

“Should I...” She searched for a suitable question, something to keep this tenuous connection between them from unravelling entirely.

“Should I bring my claws or spear?” she asked after a moment, settling her heels back on the common ground of weaponry. “I know we’re not likely to run into any trouble, but I want to be prepared.”

His serious expression relaxed for the first time as he considered this, and she tried not to be too obvious in how closely she watched him. She wondered what options he was weighing together in his mind, how he decided which came up short in the balance.

“Your claws,” he answered finally. “If any monsters linger in the Kingsbarrow, the corridors may prove difficult to maneuver in with a larger weapon, especially given the size of our party.”

“I’d think your soldiers would have learned to stay out of my way by this point,” Jade said archly. “Sergeant Galena still hasn’t forgiven me for the accidental haircut I gave her last time.”

Hendrik almost smiled then, the corners of his lips twitching, and she nearly glowed with the lightness that filled her chest. But then the expression vanished, and the knightly distance took its place again.

“If there is nothing else, Your Highness,” he said formally, “I am needed at morning inspection.”

“No—go on,” she said with a casual wave that took far too much effort to pull off.

Hendrik inclined his head to her, fist to his chest, and walked away in his clanking armour. Jade watched him go, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing larger with each step he took.

Something had been pulled taut between them, something twisted and fraying, and she had no idea how to begin untangling it.

 

* * *

 

The sun dipped below the mountains to the west as Jade reined in and looked out over the grassy fields of the Emerald Coast. Her white palfrey, Opal, tossed her head a bit at the sudden stop and the princess rested what she hoped was a soothing hand on the horse’s neck.

Hendrik briskly rode up beside her and also reined in. Obsidian’s height, several hands taller than her own horse, helped his master tower over her even more than usual. The knight gave a cursory glance at the landscape and then turned back toward the troops trickling in behind them.

“Make for the campsite by the coast and set up the tents!” he ordered. Jade heard several assenting shouts as the riders cantered past their commander and princess and set off down the dirt path.

“Why don’t we camp closer to the Kingsbarrow?” she asked Hendrik. She looked up at him out of habit, then re-adjusted her line of sight when she found her eyes only reaching as high as his chest. They were a formidable pair in battle, she knew, but it still seemed entirely ridiculous for a horse to be _that_ large.

Obsidian shifted slightly to fix one black eye on her and she jerked her gaze away almost guiltily.

“The steps are too steep for the horses, Your Highness,” Hendrik answered, unaware of the silent judgement of his mount. “We shall rest tonight and then proceed on foot in the morning.”

The knight nodded at her before shaking his reins and galloping down the path. The princess watched for a moment then trotted after him, wincing even at _that_ much bouncing in her saddle after a whole day of it.

When she arrived at the campsite, she was surprised at how much work had already been done. Most of the horses had been tethered and several of the tents were in the process of being erected. This was her first overnight trip with Hendrik’s unit, most of their previous excursions having been single-day affairs. Efficiency was obviously a core component of their training and she had little doubt as to whose influence was responsible for it.

Jade dismounted and led Opal over to the other horses, tying the reins to one of the stakes set in the ground. She wondered if she was supposed to... _give_ something to the horse, something to start building the relationship between rider and mount that she’d heard was so important. She checked her pack, but had nothing but trail rations.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said instead, and immediately felt like an idiot. She gave Opal’s nose an awkward pat and left.

It took four tries before she found a soldier who was willing to let their princess help out with camp preparations and she spent the next hour gathering wood for the fires and assisting in the cooking. Twilight was just creeping into dusk when she finally grabbed a bowl of stew and sat down cross-legged on the ground with Hendrik’s officers.

“Princess Jade,” Lieutenant Carver greeted her, raising his spoon in a salute. This one she knew fairly well, as her most reliable dance partner at balls. His family was one of the oldest in Heliodor and she knew her father was _very_ interested in their acquaintance, despite Jade’s insistence that his most appealing quality was his ability to waltz without tripping over his own two feet.

“Hello,” she said to him and the two sergeants, both women. She looked somewhat hesitantly at the younger one, eyeing her short bob.

“It looks nice,” she ventured. “Your hair, I mean.”

Sergeant Galena’s answering grunt contained a world of meaning, not the least of which was the strong suggestion of some future coup d’état. The princess quickly changed the subject.

“It’s amazing how fast all this came together,” she said, gesturing out at the camp. A neat row of tents spread out along the field and the horses were now safely ensconced in a makeshift paddock. Laughter and chatter from the surrounding soldiers filled the air as the campfires crackled and popped under bubbling cookpots.

“We’re well practiced at it now, Your Highness,” Sergeant Mica replied, impatiently moving her greying braid out of the way while she ate. She spoke with a faint hint of a Gondolian accent and Jade wondered what her story was.

“And the Commander makes sure that everyone who _isn’t_ up to speed, gets there in a hurry,” Carver chuckled.

“That sounds like him,” Jade agreed. She seldom got a chance to sit down with the army corps like this, and found herself stirring her food rather than eating so she could better listen.

“You must have some experience camping yourself, Princess,” Carver continued. “Being on the road so many years, and all.”

Jade huffed a short laugh. “With Rab, we were lucky to even find shelter, let alone a campfire some nights. It was a far cry from all of—this.”

“Sir Hendrik expects nothing less from us,” Galena declared somewhat pompously. “He’s very selective about who joins his unit. Only the most accomplished soldiers can hope to serve with him.”

“I think the princess probably knows that already, Sergeant,” Mica chided, tossing a hard crust of bread at her. It bounced off the younger woman’s shoulder and she scowled. Jade tried very, very hard to hide her reflexive smile; the last thing her father needed was open insurrection against the crown on top of everything _else_ going on.

Besides, something else was nagging at her.

“I don’t suppose I could convince any of you to call me Jade, could I?” she asked the group. She’d mostly gotten used to all the honorifics at the castle, but it seemed especially out of place here under the stars, as so many nights of her life had been spent.

The officers exchanged glances and then Carver and Mica burst out laughing.

“Only if we’re in the mood for a month-long holiday in the dungeons, Princess,” Carver eventually managed, grinning at her.

“And that’s _before_ the Commander assigned us permanently to stable-mucking duty,” Mica added as she wiped at her eyes.

“I guess not, then,” Jade sighed, setting aside her barely-touched bowl of stew.

“Sir Hendrik is very strict on proper terms of address,” Galena said with a toss of her hair, which had probably been a more effective gesture before the unfortunate spear incident. “When you returned, he made it very clear to all of us that he would tolerate no disrespect. I happen to fully agree with—”

“Oh, stuff it, Galena,” Mica yawned, leaning back on her elbows. Jade was suddenly more grateful to the older woman than she would ever know, and resolved to ask Hendrik about a possible pay raise.

She chatted with the officers awhile longer before excusing herself, ostensibly to go check on her equipment before bed. Her real goal, however, was to track down the person she’d spoken very much _of_ but not at all _to_ that evening.

He was with the horses, of course. She saw him kneeling down looking at one of Obsidian’s hooves as she approached the enclosure and its two dozen grazing mounts. The paddock had been set up a short distance from the main camp, and starlight and crickets gradually overtook fire and laughter the closer she got.

Obsidian lifted his head to sniff at Jade before returning to his lazy munching of the dark grass, apparently not at all bothered by his master’s careful inspection.

“Hendrik,” she said simply.

The knight stayed a moment longer at his task before standing, brushing off his trousers as he rose. He’d removed his plate but kept his mail shirt on and she wondered if that was usual practice for him on the field.

(She’d been wondering a lot of things lately, she knew; sometimes the small curiosities were a good distraction from the larger questions, the ones that threatened to gnaw holes in her very mind.)

“Princess,” he returned with a nod. “Did you wish to check on your horse?”

“Oh,” Jade said, momentarily flummoxed. “Is that a thing I _should_ do?”

Another one of those almost-smiles from him, so tricky to see in the near-darkness. He turned away from Obsidian and walked further into the paddock without a reply. Jade followed.

Opal’s white coat glowed in the light of the stars and she looked up curiously as they approached. Hendrik reached out with one gloved hand and stroked her neck with a gentle, sure touch, before kneeling down to check her hooves as he had with Obsidian.

Jade tentatively lifted her fingers to the palfrey’s neck, tracing the path Hendrik’s hand had taken. She knew she must be imagining the echo of his warmth she found there, but it felt real all the same. Opal snorted and shook her head, half-closing her eyes as Jade continued to rub her coarse coat.

“She seems in fine condition,” Hendrik declared, rising again and giving the horse a quick pat on her right flank. “Did you have trouble on the journey?”

“Not really. Although...I’m not sure she likes me,” Jade confessed.

Hendrik’s smile was fully realized this time and something deep and wonderful bloomed inside her chest.

“An easy matter to rectify,” he said. He reached for a leather satchel at his waist and untied it from his belt, shaking it open and offering it to her. “Here.”

Jade took it and dipped her fingers inside, pulling out a handful of dusty dry flakes.

“What are—” she started to ask, but Opal had already surged forward and was snuffing eagerly at her hand.

“Oh,” Jade exclaimed, unable to keep from giggling as the horse’s rough tongue scraped every last flake from her palm. The princess immediately dug out more and offered them to her excited mount.

“Dried oats, Princess,” Hendrik explained, still smiling as he rubbed the distracted horse’s forehead. “The quickest way to any horse’s heart is through its stomach.”

“I can see that,” she murmured, entirely charmed by Opal’s enthusiasm. Suddenly she felt more optimistic about horse-riding training than she had all day.

She pulled away after another handful, not wanting the horse to get sick, and laughed again when Opal followed her hand with determined teeth and tried to grab the bag herself. Jade offered it back to Hendrik but he shook his head.

“I have no need of it,” the knight replied. “I had forgotten Obsidian’s love of the grass on this coast—even oats pale in comparison.”

She smiled her thanks and tied the bag onto her own belt instead. After one last pat for Opal, the two started to make their way out of the paddock and back to camp.

“When are we heading to the Kingsbarrow tomorrow?” Jade asked the tall man beside her.

“Directly after dawn, Your Highness,” he said. “I wish to return to Heliodor by nightfall if at all possible. I shall instruct my men to make most of their preparations tonight, and would ask you to do the same.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “When does—”

One of the horses abruptly shied and reared up, dangerously close to Jade. She instinctively tried to jerk away, but instead found herself pulled back by a pair of powerful arms enfolding themselves around her.

“Princess! Are you hurt?” Hendrik asked anxiously, spinning her around and scanning her for injuries once a safe distance away.

Jade shook her head mutely and watched with wide eyes as he rushed to the horse to calm it. Her heart thumped painfully, the surprise only part of the reason. She had a flash of memory—of bright lanterns and glittering waterways and a strong, comforting steadiness beneath her.

It seemed a lifetime ago now. It might as well have _been_ a lifetime ago, for everything that had changed.

Hendrik was speaking in a low voice to the horse and holding out his hands placatingly. The mount soon settled and accepted a few soothing strokes to the neck before the knight rejoined his princess.

“Strange,” he frowned as he looked off into the distance. “I see no disturbances.”

“Well,” Jade said lightly, trying to cover up the slight shakiness of her voice, “there goes all _my_ trust in horses again.”

Hendrik turned back to her, worry still in his eyes. “You are truly well, Princess?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him.

They stood there, very close together underneath the stars. His face changed, several expressions flitting over it before he set his jaw and she _saw_ him start to withdraw without moving a muscle.

She couldn’t let him pull back. She _wouldn’t_. She wasn’t going to leave it like this between them any longer, stretched so tightly she could hardly breathe.

Her foot lifted to take a step forward—

“Sir Hendrik? Everything all right there?” a soldier shouted from back at the camp.

Hendrik immediately put several feet of distance between himself and the princess and turned to reply to the man.

“All is well!” he called and the soldier waved a salute in return. Hendrik glanced over his shoulder at Jade.

“We should return to camp and prepare for bed, Princess,” he said firmly and started walking away before she could answer.

After a long moment, she followed. What else was there to do?

 

* * *

 

Jade looked up at the enormous statue of the two-headed eagle of Heliodor as soldiers trickled into the Kingsbarrow’s front entrance behind her. They muttered darkly amongst themselves, something about being forced to climb endless stairs at the crack of dawn, and she felt a sympathizing pang in her calves. Still, it was good to know she wouldn’t have to travel as far as Phnom Nonh to get in some serious leg workouts.

Any and all muted complaining ceased, however, as Sir Hendrik entered the hall, bringing up the rear. He seemed completely unaffected by the trek—probably to no one’s surprise. Jade briefly indulged in a deep appreciation for his leg muscles before pulling her thoughts away from such distracting avenues.

“Lieutenant, is everyone accounted for?” he called out to Carver.

“Yes, sir!” Carver replied, snapping a quick salute.

“Good,” Hendrik nodded curtly. “We shall move as a group; the altar lies several floors below and I would not have anyone lose their way.”

He walked over to Jade and made his own cursory examination of the statue before glancing down at her. “My men are ready at your command, Princess.”

She straightened her back and hefted the satchel she carried, shifting its weight to be more comfortable. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Move out!” Hendrik ordered and a wave of assent rippled through the troops as they formed up and started their descent into the tomb.

Jade soon found herself hopelessly lost in the labyrinthine structure. The crumbling stone passages all seemed to run together, especially with only the few dim torches on the walls for light. Someone in Hendrik’s unit—she couldn’t tell who—obviously had a bit of magical ability and was helpfully lighting the sconces in each room and hallway as they entered.

Hendrik was silent beside her as they walked and she knew he was paying constant attention to their surroundings, scanning for threats. After he’d come here with Sylvando during their journey they’d mentioned the Kingsbarrow had been infested with monsters. Now, though, Jade only heard the drip of unseen water and the occasional low murmur from the soldiers.

At various crossroads, they halted for a few minutes while Hendrik dispatched soldiers to check the area.

“Well?” he asked the scout after the third time.

“Nothing to report, sir!” the woman replied briskly. “Not even any rats or mice, that I could see.”

“Hm,” the knight grunted, and Jade knew it didn’t put him any more at ease to hear that.

Eventually they reached the main stairway to the altar room and began the extended—and extended and extended—downward trek. Jade heard some grumbling from the soldiers at all the climbing they would have to do on the way out, but a piercing look from Hendrik abruptly cut off all complaints.

At the bottom was a large door flanked by two enormous pedestals. Several troops rushed forward to pull it open and then waved Jade in with salutes. She walked into the altar room slowly as braziers and torches lit up around her, her eyes locked onto the raised pedestal at the other end.

If Heliodor and its castle were old, this felt _ancient_. She didn’t know much about the history of the Kingsbarrow—only what she’d learned in her lessons as a girl—but this altar somehow seemed from another time entirely compared to the rest of the tomb.

The remainder of the soldiers had filed into the room and lined up smartly behind their princess. Hendrik joined her at the bottom of the steps and extended one hand, inviting her to continue. “Princess,” he said.

Jade nodded and tugged the satchel off her back, letting it fall to the floor as she pulled the glowing Red Orb out with both hands. Taking a deep breath, she started to ascend the stairs.

Was that a tremor when she placed her foot on the third step, or just her imagination? At the fifth, a faint rumble sounded in the distance and there was murmuring from the soldiers behind her. When she reached the pedestal on the landing, however, all was still and quiet—almost like a breath being held with anticipation.

The Crown Princess of Heliodor carefully placed the Orb onto the altar.

It was definitely _not_ her imagination when the ground started shaking and the walls shuddered and groaned. Several cries of alarm came from the troops and she heard Hendrik shout some command before calling out to her: “Princess! Fall back!”

In her defense, she _tried_ to run down the steps to safety, but the bricks from behind the pedestal had started to crumble and a chunk of stone hit her in the arm and knocked her down where she stood. She grunted in pain and pushed herself up onto her elbows just in time to see an enormous metallic creature burst out from the wall.

More shouts as the gleaming beast charged down the steps and attacked the party of soldiers. It was...some kind of mechanical gryphon or bird—Jade couldn’t quite tell what. But it didn’t much matter when her battle instincts kicked in and she scrambled upright, ignoring the throbbing of her arm as she tore her claws from her belt and leapt off the platform.

Several of the soldiers had already been thrown to the ground when Jade entered the fray. Hendrik had been right about the claws, she realized—those armed with swords and polearms were at a distinct disadvantage in the close quarters with so many other people nearby. “Get the wounded out of the way!” she ordered a cluster of troops beside her before she rushed at the machine to perform a devastating Can Opener.

The princess dodged the creature’s counterattack and raced off to one side, hoping to pull it out of position and away from the bulk of the soldiers. A few of them attempted to hack at it with their weapons, but by this point it only had eyes for her.

The bird-like machine clanked ominously and rose to its full height, towering over her in the small room with wings spread wide. While Jade paused, determining her next move, a glowing light surrounded her and she felt the skin on her arm knit back together. Then Hendrik was at her side, his greatsword held high in front of him and a fierce look on his face.

“Attack from behind while I draw its attention,” he said shortly, not taking his eyes off the huge machine.

“Right,” Jade nodded. Her pulse thudded in her ears and her heart sang with the thrill of battle.

They leapt apart and she saw the flash of Hendrik’s Forbearance out of the corner of her eye as she ran around to face the metal beast’s back. Most of the soldiers had clustered to one side of the room, obviously under orders to stay out of the way to avoid further injuries.

The princess, now free from the need to defend herself, launched attack after attack at the creature, her claws flashing in the air. Sparks flew from its metal casing as she tore deep grooves into its body. It kept trying to turn around and refocus its attention on her, but the knight’s spell pulled it back time and again. She could feel the room tremble at every brutal slash Hendrik parried with his sword.

In what was probably a shorter time than she thought, the machine started sputtering and lilting from side to side. Jade jumped back to give it space and saw Hendrik do the same on the other side, his greatsword still held at the ready. With a last few clanks and hisses, the metal creature toppled and fell to the floor with a deafening crash.

All was still for a few moments. Then the soldiers came back to the centre of the room, sheathing their weapons and talking excitedly. Some warily examined the machine lying on the floor while others clustered around the princess, congratulating her on her performance with awe. She thanked them distractedly while she tried to peer through the group to the other side of the room.

Hendrik was standing with his sergeants as they spoke to him, but he was likewise searching the crowd. Their eyes locked, and even from a distance she saw the relief on his face when he saw that she was well.

Jade pulled off her claws and set them down on top of her pack. She was about to excuse herself from her admirers and go over to him when a voice called out from above: “I think there’s a passageway down here!”

Lieutenant Carver had been examining the hole made by the machine, peering off into the darkness. Every head swivelled toward him at his announcement. He tapped the stonework with his sheathed sword and gestured. “It’s almost like a mechanism was put in to—”

Another rumble, loud and ominous. Jade saw the bricks above Carver’s head tremble and start to collapse, unable to sustain any more stress after what must have been centuries of stability.

“Look out!” she shouted, on the move before she could even think. She was up the stairs in a flash and lunged for Carver. The momentum as she knocked into him carried them both forward and they fell into the dark passageway together.

_“Princess!”_ was the last thing she heard before the stonework gave way with a thunderous roar, and all became darkness.

 

* * *

 

Jade groaned and shifted as she came back to consciousness. She blinked her eyes open, slowly at first, then more quickly when the world stayed black and impenetrable. A burst of panic coursed through her.

“Princess Jade?” came a strained voice from several feet away.

“Carver?” She blinked again, desperately trying to make out something, _anything_. “Why...why can’t I see?”

“Here you go.” A small flame sprung up in the darkness and she immediately squeezed her eyes shut in pain.

When she opened them again a few moments later, she saw Carver’s laboured face lit up by a tendril of fire dancing on his fingertip.

“ _You_ were the one lighting all the torches,” she realized.

He gave her a tight grin. “One of my very few talents. Excellent party trick, too.”

Jade pushed herself up into a sitting position with a grunt. Her head pounded but she didn’t seem much the worse for wear otherwise.

“How long was I out?” she asked, gingerly brushing gravel off her scraped knees.

“Not long. Only a few minutes,” Carver replied. He paused. “If you wouldn’t mind—” he said then, and she glanced over at him. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she saw the reason he hadn’t moved at all: one of his legs was trapped, wedged tightly between two heavy bricks.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, scrambling up from the floor and ignoring the sudden screaming in her head. She knelt down beside the man, pulling at one of the rough stones with all her strength. He sighed with relief when it gave way and thudded to the floor beside them.

“Thanks awfully,” Carver said, hissing in pain as he tried to shift the bloody limb. “I’m not sure how much use it’s going to be right now, but at least I won’t have to gnaw it off.”

“I left my supplies by the altar,” Jade fretted. “I don’t suppose you’ve any training in Magical Mending?”

He laughed shortly. “No, that would be _far_ too useful a pursuit for any true scion of the Feldspar family.”

The princess cleared off some more of the rubble around his leg and squinted. “We need more light. Hold up your hand so I can look around.”

While the lieutenant obliged her, Jade followed the passageway down a short distance until she found two wall sconces and grabbed the torches from them. She returned and lit them on his finger before propping them up on the large stone next to her.

“Good thinking, Highness,” Carver complimented her, letting his finger extinguish. “I’m not sure how much longer until my magic would have run out.”

“Carver,” Jade replied, tearing long strips of fabric off her skirt with quick jerks, “if we’re going to be stuck together like this, then I _insist_ on your calling me by name.”

“I suppose I could,” he conceded. He winced a bit when she started wrapping his leg up. “As long as you promise it never, ever gets back to the Commander. I wasn’t _really_ joking about the dungeons.”

“Yes, well, Sir Hendrik certainly does like to keep his distance,” she muttered, tugging the cloth into a knot with slightly more force than necessary.

After a few more minutes of work, she sat back on her heels. “Best I can do until we find a way out of here and get you some healing.”

“Good enough,” Carver replied. He smiled at her. “Thanks, Jade.”

She returned the smile and helped him stand up. Putting any significant weight on the leg was out of the question, but the two of them together could hobble along well enough.

“Do you think there’s any way we could get back through the door again?” Jade asked.

He shook his head. “I tried yelling for a bit while you were out, but heard absolutely nothing. I think it’s completely caved in.”

“That only leaves one option, I suppose,” she said, handing him a torch and holding the other aloft. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he grimaced.

It was slow going down the passageway as they shuffled together, Jade supporting Carver as much as she was able. Luckily it all seemed to be one continuous path, eliminating the need for what would have been some very uneducated guesswork.

They were quiet for a while, but Jade knew from their acquaintance that the lieutenant was constitutionally incapable of silence for more than three continuous minutes. And so, it wasn’t long before he spoke again.

“Why do you think that monster woke up when you put the Orb on the altar?” he asked her when they took a short break.

“I’m not sure,” she frowned, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.

“I was with Sir Hendrik when we returned the Orb last time,” Carver continued, “but nothing like _this_ happened.” He hesitated. “It almost seemed to want _you_ , didn’t it?”

“I honestly couldn’t say,” Jade sighed, her head too sore to puzzle out mysteries at the moment. “Shall we continue?”

It was impossible to judge time or space in the oppressively dark passageway. The torchlight danced along the stone walls and cast ominous shadows that disappeared when she turned to look at them. Carver’s breathing gradually grew more laboured and she knew they’d have to come up with a new plan—and soon.

She was about to suggest another rest when suddenly their small pools of light bounced off an obstacle ahead.

“It’s a door,” Carver said, squinting at the stone archway.

“A large one,” Jade agreed. “Wait here while I go check it out.”

She approached warily. Her claws had been left behind with her pack, but Jade had no small amount of confidence in her ability to kick most adversaries to death if need be. The heavy wooden door groaned and resisted her efforts as she pulled on the handle, and she suspected it hadn’t been used in a _very_ long time. Finally, however, it gave way, and she hefted her torch and stepped into the room beyond.

It was large; she could tell that much from the echoes of her footsteps bouncing off the unseen walls. There appeared to be rectangular stone structures placed at regular intervals, but she couldn’t figure out anything of their purpose in the darkness.

“Jade? What is it?” Carver asked from the passageway.

“I don’t know,” she called back. “A room of some kind. It feels big.”

She heard him shuffling behind her as he hobbled through the door himself. There was a burst of flame and then torches on the walls lit up one after another. Carver let out a gasp, and Jade found that she more than shared the sentiment.

It was a crypt. The vaulted ceiling lay a fair distance above their heads, and buttressed archways framed what she now saw to be large stone sarcophagi, dozens upon dozens of them. Each was decorated with a crowned effigy on top, Jade noted as she walked slowly through the room, holding her torch up to examine them more closely. Some were obviously made with the highest degree of skill and care, while others were more crude. All, however, had one thing in common, one very important connection—

“Queens,” she breathed.

As far as she could tell, every last figure buried here had been a queen. She moved more quickly, reading the etched nameplates and markings above the sarcophagi. Some she recognized from her distant history lessons, but others were wholly unfamiliar to her. The ones at the furthest and oldest end of the room, she couldn’t decipher at all.

“I had no idea this was down here,” Carver said quietly, looking around with puzzled eyes. “I mean—it is called the _Kings_ barrow, right?”

“This isn’t just Heliodorian royalty,” Jade replied in a wondering tone. “I think it’s even older than that.”

Her eye was caught by a stone pedestal in the far corner with thin slate tablets stacked on top. Jade picked one up and scanned it, finding names and dates and descriptions all laid out in faded lettering. It appeared to be a ledger of some kind, corresponding to one of the bodies interred here. She eagerly read on, suddenly realizing just what a wealth of _knowledge_ had lain here, undisturbed for centuries—

“Not to interrupt the historical significance of any of this,” Carver called over to her, “but maybe we should see if there’s another way out before you wind up having to carry me.”

Jade looked sharply at him. He was putting up a brave front, but the makeshift bandage on his leg was stained with blood and he’d grown quite pale in the flickering light of his torch. She put the tablet back down and pulled her mind away from her burning curiosity about the tomb and its royal occupants.

A quick tour of the room showed her no other doors but the one they’d entered, and she was sure they hadn’t missed any side passages along the way. She was about to start checking the floors for possible exits when she noticed one of the torches near the back wall juddering oddly.

She tried to tamp down the hope that sprang up in her as she made her way over to the wall and pressed her hands against it, searching for—

There it was: a draft.

“I think this might lead to the outside!” Jade said eagerly. She could feel the air seeping through and see what might be tiny pinpricks of light, if she squinted.

Carver painfully shuffled over to join her. “Are you sure?” he asked doubtfully.

“Only way one to find out,” she told him. “Do you have any spells other than Sizz?”

“Just Frizz,” he replied, scratching his neck. “Learning how to make fire’s a pretty easy sell for a bored noble kid.”

She hummed in response. An idea had begun to form in her mind—dangerous, but possibly their only chance. “I want you to cast the strongest Frizz you have... _here_.” Jade pointed to a slightly more crumbled section of the wall. “At the same time I’ll kick right below it, and hopefully the force of both combined will loosen up a few of the bricks without bringing the whole thing down on us.”

“You want me to throw a fireball inches away from the Princess of Heliodor?” Carver asked incredulously. “Forget the dungeons—if this goes wrong, it’ll be straight to the headsman’s block for me. And _that’s_ only if Sir Hendrik doesn’t tear me apart with his _bare hands_ first.”

“If this goes wrong, then best case you’ll just starve to death here, anyway,” she said bluntly.

“All right,” the lieutenant sighed. “Give me a second.”

Jade shifted her weight onto her back foot and readied her other leg in the air as Carver cupped his hands together and a swirling light started to form between them. It slowly grew, pulsating and undulating between his fingers until he’d stretched it out to a fiery ball half a foot across.

“Ready?” he called to Jade over the hissing and crackling sound of the barely-contained Frizz.

“Ready!” she answered, steeling herself. Her mind raced through a dozen potential last thoughts before fixing itself on a stern face and blue-green eyes.

“ _Now!_ ” The fireball slammed against the wall in an explosion of sparks just as she loosed her Multifeet below it.

The result was satisfyingly dramatic, to say the least. The stonework shattered underneath her foot and burst out into the air beyond, blasting open a hole several metres in diameter. Jade covered her eyes as sudden sunlight assaulted her vision, so used to the near-pitch blackness of the past hour or more.

“Come on!” she shouted at Carver, unwilling to get trapped on the wrong side of a cave-in again. She grabbed at him blindly and pulled him along with her as she leapt through the opening toward the light. He cried out in pain when they hit the ground hard, but she ignored it and continued yanking him forward until they seemed a safe distance away. Jade collapsed in a heap and heard him fall down beside her.

The fresh air was a blessing in her lungs after so long inside the musty tomb. After a minute, she opened her eyes the barest sliver, squinting at what seemed to be the darkest part in her field of vision. Soon she could open them further and she looked around to get her bearings. They appeared to be in the shade of a large tree next to some unknown side of the Kingsbarrow, the noontime sun shining down all around them.

“Are you all right?” she asked Carver, who was also blearily scanning the area.

“I’ll live,” he winced.

She smiled, finally allowing a vast sense of relief to wind its way through her. “And you thought it wouldn’t work.”

“I very humbly—and contritely—stand corrected,” he replied with a grand inclination of his head. “Or, well, _sit_ corrected,” he amended.

Jade had just decided to get up to search for some kind of stick Carver could use as a crutch when a soldier raced around the side of the building and spotted them. “They’re over here!” he yelled over his shoulder.

More soldiers appeared then, running in their direction. But she only had eyes for one, in gleaming black armour with his cape billowing behind him as he _sprinted_ toward her.

Hendrik skidded to a stop when he reached her and immediately fell to his knees with his hands outstretched. The thrumming surge of a Moreheal slammed through her and she felt her headache and any number of small aches and pains wash away. When the spell’s flash of light dissipated, she finally got a good look at his face.

The furrowed brow was nothing new, nor was the thinness of lips pressed together, or the tightly clenched jaw. But his eyes—there was a frantic kind of intensity there she had never seen before, and it twisted something deep inside her chest.

He didn’t seem to know what to say, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as his gaze skittered all over her. He only locked on to her face when she reached out a hand and loosely linked her fingers with his gloved ones in wordless reassurance. He let out a shuddering breath, then, and some of the tension drained out of him.

Jade saw another bright flash out of the corner of her eye and heard Carver’s sigh as one of the other soldiers healed him. He was smiling tiredly when she looked over and he made a flippant motion in the air.

“All right,” he said to her, “maybe it _would_ be useful to focus on something other than fire.”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a smile of her own. “It worked out pretty well in the end.”

“I guess so. But you’re the one who really got us out of there, Jade. Thank you.” The young man was as earnest as she’d ever seen him and she felt touched by his gratitude.

Hendrik’s fingers suddenly tightened against her own and Carver’s complexion turned ghastly pale. “I-I mean—Your Highness,” he stammered, quickly turning his head to focus very intently on some spot on the distant horizon.

Jade glanced back at Hendrik. The knight’s face had taken on a look of icy hostility as he stared hard at his lieutenant.

“Hendrik—” she started to say, but he dropped his hand from hers and rose to his feet.

“We shall return to camp when you are sufficiently recovered,” he said, stone-faced. “My men will prepare for the journey back to Heliodor.”

The princess pushed herself further into a sitting position, ignoring the slight dizziness that overtook her. “Heliodor? Wouldn’t it make more sense to stay at Cobblestone and head out in the morning?”

“No,” Hendrik replied curtly. “The king expects our return tonight, and I would have you safely back at the castle.”

Before Jade could argue he had already swept away, barking orders at his troops. She frowned after him, her stomach tying itself into an uncomfortable knot. Carver caught her eye again and he shrugged helplessly at her.

Whatever this was between her and Hendrik, it felt dangerously close to unravelling—and soon.

 

* * *

 

The officers’ training ground was dark and still. A heavy cloud cover obscured the night sky, casting shadows over the woman sitting alone in the centre of the sparring ring with her spear lying beside her.

Jade was something beyond tiredness. They had pushed the horses hard during the ride home and she wasn’t used to the physical toll of such a jarring, mile-devouring pace. It certainly hadn’t helped that she’d then immediately been pulled into an extended conference with her father to explain the morning’s events. If she’d managed to get a word in edgewise through his lecturing, it was only by chance.

She’d come here afterward to work out her frustration with the help of an unlucky training dummy, but her heart just hadn’t been in it. So she was sitting instead, arms wrapped around her legs and chin on her knees, as she had been for the past...however long now. Time, like fatigue, had also lost its meaning.

Somehow, she was utterly unsurprised when the door clicked open and another person entered the courtyard. Heavy footsteps approached the ring and stopped some distance away from her.

“If you’ve come to chastise me, please don’t,” Jade said tonelessly, not bothering to look up. “I already got enough of that earlier.”

There was a weighty silence.

“There is no need,” Hendrik finally replied, equally flat. “I have accepted full responsibility for the day’s events.”

He paused for a moment, but she had no response to that. He then added: “I leave for Puerto Valor in the morning, to resume training under Don Rodrigo.”

“What?” Jade scrambled to her feet, her heart suddenly knocking painfully in her chest. “But my father—”

“—is far more forgiving of his only daughter than he is of the knight tasked with her protection,” Hendrik cut in. Though his general bearing was rarely what one might call _relaxed_ , she’d never seen him so stiff and unyielding before. He avoided her gaze, his face stony.

Jade’s mind raced in a thousand different directions. “That isn’t—he can’t— _I_ was the one who chose to jump in there!” she cried, her hands balling into tense fists. “Father has no right to punish you for this!”

“There is no punishment, Princess,” Hendrik declared. “It was _my_ decision, and the king—in his infinite wisdom—agreed. I must needs spend some time away in order to properly rededicate myself to his service.”

It was exactly what she never wanted to hear him say. They were only a dozen feet apart, but the distance seemed to stretch out endlessly. At that moment he was every inch her father’s staunch and steadfast knight as he told her, once again, that her title would always be an insurmountable wall between them.

“I don’t understand why any of this was a problem at all,” Jade said forcefully. “I _saved_ Carver!”

“At great personal risk,” Hendrik retorted, eye flashing as they finally met hers. The intensity there might have cowed a lesser person, but Jade was most definitely _not_ one of them.

“Do you think I can’t handle myself?” she demanded.

“I am fully aware that you can,” he replied, his own fingers clenched tightly. “But the soldiers with whom we travel are for _your_ benefit, not you for theirs.”

She stepped forward with one angry hand held to her chest. “When will you realize that I don’t _need_ anyone to protect me?”

“And when will you realize that you are now responsible for far more than yourself?” he snapped, finally losing grip on his temper. “That as future queen, you have a duty to Heliodor and its people?”

“You can't expect me to sit back and let everyone else put themselves on the line for my sake,” she countered heatedly. “I want to be out there too, fighting to protect everyone!”

“Not when it means being reckless!” he shouted, punctuating the air with his fist. “Do you think there is a soldier in this castle who would not lay down his life for you without a moment's hesitation?”

“I don’t _want_ anyone to die for me!” she cried. “I would rather risk my own life a thousand times over than have _one person's_ blood on my hands!”

They were both breathing heavily now, glaring eyes locked on each other. Jade felt a strange sense of _betrayal_ above all else—that the trembling man who had clung to her as if she was the answer to his every whispered prayer, could now be _lecturing_ her so furiously.

Hendrik took a deep breath and dropped his gaze from hers, obviously struggling to regain control over himself. When he finally spoke, it was with a tone of strained composure.

“We do not choose our responsibilities, Princess,” he said quietly. “We have not that luxury. All we can choose is how to act upon them, however much we may wish it otherwise.”

She had the sudden feeling he wasn’t talking about duty anymore. Her pulse picked up again, for a very different reason this time.

Hendrik swallowed hard. “The entire time you were trapped within that tomb—every single _second_ of it—I could think only of finding your lifeless body, too late to be revived.”

His eyes closed, struggling with some unseen thought. “If I...if I had failed in such a way...”

He was _definitely_ not talking about duty.

For the first time that evening, Jade could see the cracks in his armour, the dread and terror behind his anger. And...something else. Something she hadn’t seen since that night at the inn, something so carefully hidden afterward that she could almost have believed herself mistaken.

“We do not choose this,” he repeated then, slightly hoarse. His troubled gaze went back to hers. “But...we learn to live with it. To endure. There is no other alternative.”

“Hendrik,” she breathed, unable to stand still a second longer. She started to take a step forward, but at that same moment he turned away from her and cleared his throat.

“Emotions have run high, and I think it best we end this here,” he said evenly. “I shall see you upon my return from Puerto Valor.”

He was closing off again, retreating into that knightly facade of noble stoicism. All those words unspoken, and yet he said nothing. He did nothing. He avoided her and harangued her and now he was _leaving_ her.

That unsettled tension between them didn’t unravel after all; it snapped.

“No.”

Quick as a flash, Jade snatched her spear up from the floor of the sparring ring. He just had time to whirl back, startled, before she heaved a mighty swing at him.

There was a loud clunk as the pole of her spear hit the sheathed sword he’d hastily thrown up to defend himself. He wrenched the sheath off his belt and used it to block her next blow, falling back to brace himself against her attacks.

“Princess! What has come over you?” Hendrik demanded as he parried the hits she continued to rain down.

“Fight me, Hendrik!” she yelled, attempting a low sweep at his legs that he barely managed to dodge.

It wasn’t her intent to hurt him; really, she knew her chances of landing a successful blow were slim to none. What she wanted was to make him _feel_ , to spark his frustration, to claw him back from that infuriating self-denial so central to his life.

They danced around the ring to the sound of wood meeting leather again and again. Lunge, parry; thrust, deflect; swipe, block. The familiar satisfaction of battle coursed through her despite the hurt and anger roiling underneath. Sixteen years of sacrifice and suffering, and some things would always be easier to confront with a weapon in her hands.

He met her next overhanded strike head-on and they glared at each other over the cross of spear and sword, panting.

“Enough!” Hendrik growled at her through clenched teeth.

“ _No_ ,” Jade snarled back.

A split-second of agonized indecision flitted across his face; then it hardened, and he pushed against her with a powerful heave, breaking the standstill.

She staggered back and tried to reposition herself but he was already charging at her, preventing escape or regroup. Jade tried desperately to block his merciless assault, even knowing deep down that the outcome was inevitable.

In only a few short moments, he had knocked the spear out of her hands with a savage blow that sent her sprawling onto the floor of the ring. When she scrambled onto her back she found herself meeting the blunted tip of his sheathed sword, inches from her neck.

“I said _enough!_ ” Hendrik barked. There was a wildness in his eyes as he towered above her. “Yield, Princess!”

She stared at him unblinkingly, her heart pounding in her chest. “I yield.”

He drew in and then released a long, shuddering breath. After a pause, he pulled his sword away from her and turned, looking down to his belt to refasten it.

Jade had been waiting for that. She pushed herself off the ground and twisted sharply, leveraging every ounce of her strength into a broad sweep aimed directly at his ankles.

Hendrik let out a startled cry as the blow took his legs out from under him and he fell to the floor. His sword clattered away to join her spear on the other side of the ring. He twisted around and tried to rise but Jade was already on him, forcefully pushing him back down. She straddled his waist with her knees and pinned his wrists on either side of his head.

Their faces were inches apart as they stared at each other. His brow was furrowed and his eyes a mixture of surprise and frustration.

“That was...a dishonorable trick,” Hendrik finally managed. His breath puffed against her mouth as he spoke; her lips parted and she saw his gaze briefly dart down then back up.

Jade tightened her grip around his wrists and leaned in the slightest bit closer. Despite the stress of the day, she could still smell a hint of his aftershave.

“Honour didn’t keep me alive for sixteen years,” she said in a low voice. “ _That_ did.”

Her pulse was a racing staccato in her ears. She saw his fingers twitch slightly and he swallowed hard, gaze locked onto hers.

If he wished to call her reckless, then that was a label she could certainly embrace.

“Do _you_ yield, Sir Hendrik?” the princess asked huskily.

He took in a long breath and his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. When he opened them again, the startled anger had been replaced by a new kind of intensity—a _hungry_ one.

“My life is yours, Princess,” the knight said to her then. “Do what you will with me.”

So she did.

Hendrik let out a grunt when her lips crashed onto his. After a second of frozen hesitation—he must have known, he _must_ have—he was kissing her back, mouth eagerly moving against her own.

Jade released his wrists and tangled her fingers into his hair as she impatiently deepened the kiss. His lips opened willingly at her urging and he groaned into her mouth when their tongues stroked together. The edges of his beard scratched at her chin but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

A low heat was coiling in her belly in response to his every twitch and gasp. She was almost surprised by how _intoxicating_ this was, Hendrik being someone she’d thought had spent more of his youth on the parade ground than in dark, forgotten corners of the castle with blushing maidens. A little clumsy, perhaps, but either way his time had been very well spent if _this_ was the result.

He pushed off the floor with one arm and brought them both up into a sitting position, her legs now straddling his thighs. She made a reflexive noise of her own when one large hand cupped her face and tilted her head back for better access to her mouth. Her fingers scraped helplessly against his scalp and he rumbled in response.

She would have complained about his breaking the kiss except for her then-desperate need for air—and his immediate decision to start moving along the line of her jaw, peppering feather-light kisses to her skin. Each one felt like a shock of electricity coursing through her body.

Not to be outdone, Jade shifted on his lap with the urgent need to relieve the burning ache between her legs. She rocked her hips forward and made contact with something warm, hard, and almost bemusingly large.

Hendrik’s stuttering moan sent a thrill through her from head to toe. His fingers twitched against her cheek and his mouth paused at her neck, breath panting hotly. Emboldened, she moved again, pressing harder this time.

“Hendrik,” she said breathlessly.

His hand dropped to her hip and gripped her tightly. She thought for a moment that he was going to help her, to move with her in chasing the delicious friction their bodies made together. But then his fingers slid under her leg and he gently pulled her out of his lap.

Jade landed on the floor with a soft thud. She was—confused, off-balance, _frustrated_. Hendrik sat beside her, his head bowed and his hair fallen in front of his eyes. Both their chests were heaving unsteadily.

“Hendrik,” she said again, hesitantly this time.

She heard his long, slow intake of breath before he spoke, his voice almost unrecognizable: “This has...gone far enough.”

He rose to his feet in one fluid motion. She watched, her stomach twisting painfully, as he picked up his sword and strapped it back on to his belt before walking with firm steps to the edge of the sparring ring. He paused, facing away from her.

“My apologies, Princess Jade,” Hendrik said quietly, his back stiff and his hands clenched into tight fists. Then he swept out of the courtyard without another word, and surely took her heart along with him.

 

* * *

 

_Jade pulled the thread together ever so slowly, her childish patience stretched to its very limit._

_“Now pinch it on each side,” Queen Belle encouraged her._

_The little princess redoubled her efforts, determined not to falter. She_ would _make her mother proud—and maybe even persuade her to let them have ice cream for dessert that night._

_With one more careful tug, Jade let go and stepped back with breathless anticipation._

_“Voila!” her mother said, holding up the complex pattern of string so they both could admire it. “Two Royal Crowns.”_

_“Like yours and Papa’s!” the girl cried._

_“And yours someday too, ma chérie,” the queen smiled._

_“But I only have one head, Mama,” Jade pouted. “Who will wear the other?”_

_Her mother laughed and Jade’s heart sang at the lovely sound. “I suppose that all depends on whom you decide to marry when you grow up.”_

_“Sir Jasper,” the princess said promptly. “He’s handsome.”_

_“But what of poor Sir Hendrik?” Queen Belle asked with mock seriousness. “He works very hard to steal you those cupcakes he thinks he hides from me.”_

_“I don’t know,” Jade responded, wrinkling her nose. “He’s trying to grow a beard and his face is all scratchy.”_

_“Well, a beard is not such a terrible thing,” her mother said, smiling to herself, and Jade wondered what she was thinking of._

_The queen held up the intricately knotted thread again. “Time to pull this apart and go to your lessons, Jade.”_

_“Okay, Mama,” the girl groaned dramatically, reaching for the string._

_Something occurred to her a few minutes later as her mother was carefully coiling the bright thread together again around a spool._

_“Mama,” she asked worriedly, “what if it_ had _fallen apart while I was making it? What if I made a mistake?”_

_“Then we would have tried again, mon petit chou,” the queen told her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before gracefully rising. “Nothing comes undone that cannot be remade. I promise.”_

_The little girl was instantly reassured. Her mother had said it, so she knew that it must be true._

 

* * *

 

Jade knelt by the queen’s gravestone the next morning, the sky a threatening sort of grey above her. Hendrik had left at dawn; she hadn’t been there to see him off.

She traced the marble epitaph with gentle fingers. _Beloved queen, beloved wife, beloved mother. May she rest peacefully among the flowers, always._

“Mother,” Jade whispered. “I wish...you were here to tell me what comes next.”

The princess sat there among the golden flowers, eyes stinging, until the rain started to fall.


End file.
